A Principal's Presence: Why Showing Up Can Make a Difference

Julianne Lang
Jun 14
4 min read

There’s something sacred about the way a baseball field lights up under Friday night lights. Something powerful about a third grader's eyes scanning the crowd during a dance recital until they lock eyes with someone who showed up. There’s something unspoken but deeply felt when your principal slips into your competition, your cheer showcase, your poetry night, your FFA banquet—just to be there.

This is the part of school leadership that doesn’t make the job description. But it’s the part that changes lives.

As a school leader, the demands of the role are unrelenting. Spreadsheets and safety plans. Schedules and meetings. The inbox never empties. The pressure to perform academically is ever-present. But if we forget that we’re in the people business, we’re missing the point.

Presence Over Perfection

Last Sunday morning, I went up to the school for a quick errand—sweatpants, messy bun, zero coffee. As I walked through the lobby, I heard a car door shut. A former student had pulled into the lot—just driving by to "see the building again."

She stepped out of her car and immediately started crying.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she laughed, through tears, as she rushed toward me. “I just… needed to come back.”

She hugged me tighter than I expected, then stepped back to introduce the young man beside her—her fiancé. “I wanted to bring him here. Show him the place where I figured out who I was. And I wanted him to meet you.”

We stood in the parking lot—just the three of us—surrounded by echoes of years past. She pointed out where her hallway used to be. We laughed about the time she fell off the risers during chorus. And before she left, she said something I’ll never forget:

“You always showed up for us. Even when I know you were going through hard stuff yourself. You were there. And that made me believe I mattered.”

I got into my office and immediately started tearing up.

The Handwritten Letter

Every now and then, I receive a letter or card from a student. One in particular sticks out. It wasn’t formal. No return address. Just a folded-up sheet of notebook paper, smudged at the edges.

It read:

“Thank you for always pushing me to do the best and be my best. Thank you for recognizing all of my hard work. Thank you for committing yourself to the best standards for me and all of the other students. I admire you for your hard work, honor, and dedication."

I admire you for your hard work.

That line has echoed in my soul for days now.

What They Don’t Tell You in Leadership School

There’s no course in your principal certification program called “How to Make a Kid Feel Seen.”No PowerPoint slide labeled “The Time You Showed Up Might Be What They Remember Forever.”There’s no state metric for “Visible Leadership Impact.”

But maybe there should be.

Maybe the real test of leadership isn’t just found in test scores or attendance data—but in whether or not your students believe you care. Whether or not they know you’ll be in the crowd. Whether you celebrate their victories and sit beside them in their valleys.

Grief Fueled My Perspective

When my husband passed away, everything changed.

Grief has a way of clarifying what matters and what doesn’t. You realize how short life is. How fragile time can be. How love, once given, never really disappears.

And it changed how I lead.

Because when you’ve stood there with your world shattered, the value of a math benchmark pales in comparison to a moment of true connection. I still care about scores. I still drive rigorous academics. But now, more than ever, I care about people first.

That means showing up when it’s inconvenient. Cheering from the bleachers even when the to-do list is screaming. Sitting in the back row of a talent show just to watch a nervous fifth grader beam with pride.

Because I know what it’s like to wish for one more moment. And I don’t want to waste the ones I’ve got.

Fuel for the Journey

This job will drain you if you let it. The emails, the emergencies, the expectations—they never end. But the hugs from former students, the tear-streaked thank-yous, the quiet letters left in your mailbox… they fill your cup.

They are your fuel.

So to my fellow school leaders: Don’t underestimate the power of your presence. Don’t think for a second that showing up doesn’t matter.It matters more than you’ll ever know.

Because long after they’ve forgotten what chapter you taught or which handbook rule you enforced, they’ll remember how you made them feel.

And if you’re lucky—if you’re really lucky—they might just come back years later to remind you of that, too.

So this Saturday morning as I head to a scholarship summit for my recent graduates, I am reminded of these students, and that just showing up for them, being in their corner, and extending that support, can make all the difference.

☕️ Here’s to leading with lattes, late nights, and the kind of love that outlasts us.